More Consequences
by greenstuff2
Summary: Eighteen months on from the move to Bulford from Catterick
1. Chapter 1

**March**

She stood and looked out of the kitchen window at the dreary looking garden and the unrelenting rain and tried hard to stop any tears of self-pity escaping. Sam was in the house and Millie was playing in the lounge, and she didn't want either of them to see her crying or for Sam to know how thoroughly pissed off she was, he would more than likely tell his dad. They had been down here for almost eighteen months now and Molly was still homesick for Catterick, for her house, her job and her mates, for the life she had made up there, but she was making a real effort to stop feeling sorry for herself and to stop whinging to Charles. She could feel that he was getting a bit pissed off with it, and she couldn't blame him, she was getting a bit pissed off with listening to it herself, but it was hard. There wasn't anything he could do about it anyway.

They had at last been able to sell the house in Yorkshire, so they could at least start looking for somewhere proper to live; Charlie had promised that they would start looking this weekend, so she was supposed to be looking on the internet for where she wanted to be. She hated the rented house they were living in, it was too small and poky and because of that it was all cluttered, it reminded her of the flat in east Ham where her mum and dad still lived. Half their stuff was in storage, which was costing an arm and a leg, because there wasn't enough room for it and they were still living with curtains that didn't fit properly. It hadn't seemed worth buying new ones because they kept expecting to buy somewhere of their own and not still be living here after more than a year.

Just to make her day a whole lot better, she had to do the school run in a minute and she was dreading it. She'd picked Millie up at lunchtime and she was fine at nursery, had walked in the first day as though she owned the bleeding place and now it was if she did. They were calling her an 'individual' just like in her old school in Yorkshire, and Molly was even more convinced that it was school speak for a bloody pain, although she was apparently very bright, which Charles said she got from her mum, a statement that made Molly laugh like a drain with disbelief. Marcus had been very nervous and anxious about going off to be with strangers, but had made a 'best friend' within days and had been really happy and settled ever since, much more than he had ever been in Yorkshire.

It was Chloe that worried her. She had started off fine, but over the last few weeks Molly could see all the signs that she was seeing school the same way she had as a little girl, getting tummy ache on Sunday nights, complaining of feeling sick in the mornings, hanging back when they got to the gates, always coming out of school on her own in the afternoons so that Molly dreaded seeing her unhappy little face every day after school, it was all the same as she remembered. Charlie had asked Chloe what was wrong, cuddled her up on his lap and tried to get her to talk to him, but she wouldn't, kept saying everything was okay and now she was starting to do a 'class clown' act when she was asked any questions about school. Molly knew there was something wrong but she didn't know what to do about it if Chloe wouldn't say. Charles was all for marching off to the school and demanding answers, saying that they were paying enough for fuck's sake, but Molly wouldn't let him, she had the feeling that Lieutenant Colonel stern-face flinging his weight around wouldn't solve the problem.

Sam was at a day boarding school, coming home for the weekends. It was a sort of compromise that Charles had arrived at with Rebecca who had, predictably, gone ballistic about Sam having to move schools again. Sam seemed quite happy and seemed to be getting on fine with his GCSEs, but Molly still felt it was wrong, that he should be at home but she managed to keep her mouth shut, at least in front of him. He was at home because his school had already broken up for Easter, way earlier than the others, it seemed to Molly that the more you paid, the longer holidays the teachers got. He was supposed to be getting his holiday homework out of the way, but was actually playing some on-line game, which she hoped was nothing x-rated which would give his dad a 'Julius Caesar' if he found out.

Collecting Chloe from school, Molly got waylaid by the tall, skinny old dragon who was the headmistress and who asked if she could "have a little word, Mrs James" which immediately reduced her to being 10 year old Molly Dawes, class clown with an attitude and an attendance problem, rather than a parent who was paying the bill. Molly blustered a bit about the fact that she had all three kids in the car with her but she could come in the morning after the kids were at school and then felt like she was making excuses, but there was no way she was going on her own, this was definitely the time when Lieutenant Colonel stern-face would come in handy.

They asked Chloe if she knew what her headmistress wanted to talk to them about, but she had simply shrugged as if she didn't know or care reminding Molly of all the times that she had done exactly the same thing. When she had said that Chloe was exactly like her, she had meant that she looked like her not that she would be as unhappy at school as she'd been and she was determined that whatever had gone on, this was not going to happen. Chloe eventually started crying, saying that she wasn't going back to school ever, that she'd run away if they made her, that she hated it. Charles took her on his lap and cuddled her but it took him ages to wheedle out of her what was wrong and then, when she finally told them, Molly was horrified but Charles turned away and she had a strong suspicion that he was fighting against laughing, and as far as she was concerned it was not funny.

Apparently they'd had to write a little story about either their mum or dad and Chloe had written about Molly. She had written that her mum used to be a soldier and that the Queen had given her a medal for blowing some bloke's head off, a version of events given to her by Sam, and Molly heard Charlie mutter that he'd kill him when he saw him. Molly asked what happened next and Chloe told them how the teacher had said that she had shown good imagination but how it was important to be truthful when you write about people or things that are real. She had set Chloe the task of thinking of lots of other words to use instead of the word 'bloke'. The other kids had started to call her 'liar, liar pants on fire' and the more she insisted she was telling the truth, the more they'd said it.

Charles spent a long time explaining that although it was true that mummy had been a soldier and that she'd got a medal from the Queen, Sam had got it wrong and it wasn't for killing anyone, it was for being very brave and saving someone's life. That mummy had done lots of other brave things as well, and although in a war people got hurt and sometimes they got killed, and mummy and daddy had been soldiers in a war so they'd had to do a bit of that, but no-one had tried to kill anyone and certainly no-one had got a medal for killing anyone.

Molly left them to it as she walked away and was back in a ditch in Afghan with a sniper shooting at her as she had stood, frozen with fear, and she could hear a voice echoing in her head from years before "I'll blow his shitty head off" then she swallowed hard as her memory dredged up another day at Upton Park. She went to the kitchen sink and thought about Bashira and then Sohail dying on a road and Badrai and for a moment she was back on a bridge with everyone shouting, with Charles bleeding to death and her taking a gun and shooting Bashira's dad. As usual, she struggled not to cry about things she couldn't change but would always feel responsible for. Her training as a first responder EMT had shown her that there had been nothing she could have done for Smurf, nothing at all, so the guilt over his death had started to go and for the first time in a long time she wondered about Quaseem and Bashira and how they were doing and made a resolution to e-mail Quaseem the next day after they got back from dealing with the mess that was Chloe's school life.

Molly saw Chloe skip away from her daddy, all smiles and shouting for the others, and looked at Charles' slightly embarrassed face and raised her eyebrows in a question.

"What?" Charles was struggling to look and sound innocent.

She didn't say a word, just stood and looked at him, eyebrows still raised.

"I may have promised her that we can get a dog when we move into our own house" he put his beseeching puppy dog face on "Come on Molls, you know they've been asking for one for ages and it seems to have cheered her up"

"Of course it's bleeding cheered her up, bloody hell Charlie, getting her own way always does that and we know nothing about looking after a dog, neither of us. Did you say she could pick which one?"

"I might have done, with the others of course, and Sam, although he doesn't deserve it right now"

"He didn't mean to cause any bother" Molly started to giggle at the image that was forming in her head.

"Are you smirking?"

"No" Molly tried hard to show him a straight face.

"What's so fucking hilarious?"

"I just hope you're looking forward to walking something the size of a fluffy rat on a lead with a ribbon in its hair, and picking up dog shit"

Charles looked at her with horror written all over his face, "You're joking, right?"

"Nope"

"Maybe she'll forget"

"Yeah right"

"Sam'll have to do it, it can be his punishment"

She was almost crying with laughter as she thought back to the one and only experience she'd had as a kid of having a dog, or any pet for that matter, an experience that had lasted about five minutes as far as she could remember and one that she knew she'd told Charlie about. She had been about Sam's age, maybe a bit younger, when her dad had come home from the pub one Sunday afternoon, well pissed and with a skinny, mangy looking dog on a lead that some bloke in the pub had given him. Her mum had gone ballistic, saying that it couldn't stay, that it couldn't even come in, that apart from the fact that it looked bleeding fierce, had he forgotten that they lived in a maisonette with no bloody garden, that there was no room for a dog, that it probably had fleas and that there was more chance of her winning Strictly than there was of her walking round the estate picking up dog shit. So her dad had taken it back, by which time the bloke had sensibly pushed off so her dad was forced to take it all the way to Battersea, where they didn't believe that it wasn't his. Molly wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes as she remembered that he hadn't stopped moaning for days.

Charles hadn't had a pet either, boarding school had seen off that possibility and Molly wondered how much was the kids wanting a dog and how much was him, although she knew he would probably want a big posh sort of dog, a Labrador or something, not the tiny little lap dog that she knew Chloe would choose.

Charles was glad that laughter had replaced the sadness on her face, he knew she'd been thinking about Bashira and Badrai. No matter how hard he tried, nothing would ever convince her that none of it had been her fault and, as usual, any mention of that day bought an expression of guilt and regret to her face that he had the urge to immediately kiss away, so he put his arms round her and hugged her hard, before gently kissing her and then starting to kiss her properly. She pulled away from him slightly.

"Are you okay?"

" I killed him, Charlie, however you wrap it up for Chloe, I killed him"

"I know, but you know that if you hadn't, none of us would be here today, not me, none of the kids, probably not you either. You did what you had to and don't worry about Chloe, Molls, she'll be fine, we'll sort it. Let's put the kids to bed and go to bed early"

"It's a bit early innit? I'm not tired"

"Good"

**Author's notes: My guests have shoved off for a few days to sort out their house now their tenants have moved out, although their stuff won't be arriving for another ten days or so. I have no idea why I went on a clean freak trip before they arrived, the house was a tip within ten minutes of their arrival from Gatwick and stayed that way. Believe it or not I will miss them when they go, even the sister-in-law from hell who had live-in domestic help at home and found this house a bit of a culture shock!**

**As you can see I've been allowed back into my parallel universe for a few days so I'm catching up with Molly, CJ and their family who are now living back in Wiltshire and are trying to adjust to the changes in their daily lives. **

**Reviews would be lovely.**


	2. Chapter 2

"One of the best things about going to bed so early is that we wake up before the kids" Charles laughed as he kissed the end of Molly's nose and then rolled over onto his side of the bed "I remember the days when we used to wake up like this every morning"

"You would" Molly laughed, "I'm bribing you so that you'll be all relaxed and you'll remember that these women are teachers and not your squaddies, they're not even in the bloody army, and so's you'll remember not to talk about sorting shit from clay or how much we're paying in fees. All you've gotta do is smile at them and they'll be eating out of your hand, falling over themselves to put it right"

"There's only one person I want eating out of my hand and she keeps taking the piss"

"Sod off" Molly laughed at the expression on his face.

"That's what I like about flirting with my wife, she's so romantic"

"Ditto"

Half an hour after they'd arrived at the school that morning they were being offered tea or coffee in bone china cups as the head teacher and Chloe's form teacher fell over themselves to apologise and smile ingratiatingly at Lt Colonel stern-face, who was now knocking their socks off by smiling at them, and Molly wondered whether he'd ever come across a female who didn't fancy him and how bloody annoying it was. Although to be fair to him, he didn't seem to notice but it irritated the fuck out of her. For Chloe's sake she'd agreed to go into school next morning and show the kids her medal and some photographs and to talk to them about being a female soldier and what it was like to go to Buckingham Palace and she was dreading it. Even after all these years, being in school gave her the willies, there was something about the smell that bought back tons of bad memories.

Charles indignantly denied that they were all over him or that he'd charmed them, he said that they'd panicked when they could see the fees disappearing down the drive, not only Chloe's but the other two as well.

Seeing Chloe's little face as she talked about being a soldier in Afghanistan and about being a medic, she kept the gory details to the minimum even though some of the boys were more interested in those than anything else, made it all worthwhile. As she expected one of the blood thirsty little buggers asked whether she had ever shot anyone, and another was clamouring to know whether she'd killed them, so she had given the prepared spiel about war meaning that sometimes people get hurt but that no-one sets out to kill anyone, knowing that what she was saying was not strictly true. She'd managed then to get the focus onto Bashira and her life as a little girl in Afghan and compared it to theirs, how she was not allowed to go to school or have modern technology, no Satellite T.V. or mobile phones or anything and as she had some photographs the children were fascinated.

The hour flew by and they were reluctant to let her go, because although she had let them hold her medal, she hadn't yet told them about Buckingham Palace, so she agreed with the form teacher to come back and do another session, maybe the following week. It was worth it to see Chloe in the middle of a group of kids basking in her mother's reflected glory. She came out of school like a different kid, gone was the sullen misery, she was full of her day so that Molly wondered how different things might have been for her if she'd had a mum or a dad prepared to go into school and stick up for her. She laughed at herself and shook her head, it was her parents that had caused her problems in the first place, keeping her off school to help with the other kids and encouraging her to play truant all the time.

Driving round in the pouring rain, house hunting with two bored little children who were winding each other and her up, one sulking teenager, he had wanted to stay behind but was still in his dad's bad books so Charles had said he had to come, so he was ignoring everyone and answering any questions with grunts and one little girl who was desperate for them to pick a house to live in, any house would do, it didn't matter, so that she could get the dog her dad had promised her, was not the way Molly would have chosen to spend Saturday. She had spent all afternoon saying "pack it in" to one or the other, or sometimes all, of the children and she was ready to give up and go home for a cup of tea. They had seen one possibility and Molly knew that Charles quite liked it, well it was big enough and they could afford it, just, but to her it didn't seem right. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was maybe because it just didn't feel like her Catterick house, which had been the first home that had ever been 'hers' .

Twenty minutes later she was standing looking out of a window at the front drive of the house in a place called Woodford Valley and it was still raining, but instead of feeling gloomy, she was full of excitement. The house was called The Barn and was near Stonehenge, was plenty big enough and only two miles from the school in Amesbury and a short drive from Bulford. It looked old but was brand new, just built to look old, and was sprawling and bright and light and Molly loved it. The agent had returned to his office, asking them to slam the door behind them, which was just as well as the little ones were charging around upstairs chasing each other in and out of bedrooms, glad to be out of the car, and making as much noise as they could as their feet echoed on the floorboards. Even Sam had unplugged his earphones and was talking civilly to his dad about the extremely posh bathrooms and Chloe was in seventh heaven deciding where her dog was going to sleep, but Molly was pretty sure there was going to be a great big catch any minute. Charles came in and stood looking out of the window with her and put his arms round her from behind then rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Do you like it?"

"Can we afford it?"

"Of course not. Well, maybe if we go without holidays and live on baked beans for the rest of our lives, and I can always put you on the streets if I have to"

"You threatened to do that before, when we stayed in that bloody hotel in London when I was pregnant with Chloe" Molly giggled " I didn't believe you then either"

"Don't be too sure and that's a point, I can always send the kids out begging, Chloe can take this fucking dog with her, that should be worth an extra few bob"

"Seriously, can we afford it?"

"No, I just told you" he laughed, then relented. "I'll take some money out of the trust fund, we'll get a huge fucking mortgage and you can always go back to work, maybe stacking shelves in Waitrose"

"More likely Tescos, you posh twat, and that's better than being a brass but I thought you said the trust fund money was only for emergencies"

"This is an emergency, my wife needs a house and my daughter needs somewhere to keep her feather duster on legs before she drives us all insane, and I've done one day house hunting and I'm sick of it already. I like this house and I don't think we're going to find anything better than this, so can we go home now please?"

"What will you do next?

"Phone the agent, make an offer, get all the legal stuff sorted out, find out how quickly we can move in, then pay the money and have a nervous breakdown"

"If it's that tight and you're that worried, perhaps we shouldn't" Molly tried hard to sound as though she meant it "It's a lot of money, maybe we should buy the other one?"

Charles turned her round to look at him and smiled, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb and then cupping her anxious little face in his hands.

"All I want to do is to make you happy and if this house is what'll make you happy, this house is where we'll live, you're all that matters to me"

He knew that the past few months had been very difficult for Molly, well they hadn't been that great for him either, but he wanted nothing more than to put the cheeky grin back on her face and if buying this house meant that they were making a step in that direction, it was worth every penny.

When they had first moved down from Yorkshire Molly hadn't been too concerned about getting a job, she had been convinced that she would have other things to occupy her time, what with finding a house, the kids and the new baby they were planning. She had believed, well they both had, that all Charles had to do was to take his trousers off, so to speak, and she would be knocked up, just like the other times, but it hadn't happened. The first month she had seen the tell-tale spots of blood she had been shocked, it was so unexpected, she had been so sure that she would be pregnant but as the months went on with the same result she had got more and more taken over with her need for another baby, she just didn't understand what had changed. Then everything changed again, a blue line on the little white wand had made everything right, and they had spent hours happily speculating as to whether it was another little Marcus, which Molly wanted or as Charles kept saying, with their luck, it was more than likely another Millie. She had been thrilled that her normal terrible morning sickness seemed to be missing this time and had been full of optimistic happiness until the day she stood at the supermarket check-out trying to behave normally as a dreadful pain in her stomach made her sweat. A pain that made her scared to move and she must have looked bad because someone asked her if she was okay, then fetched a chair for her to sit down. They called an ambulance despite Molly's insistence that she was fine, although how she was going to get home she hadn't a clue, and as she walked out of the store, she had refused point blank to sit in a wheeled stretcher, she had felt the warm sticky gush between her legs that had signalled the end of their baby.

She'd had time while she waited for Charles to collect her from the hospital to compose her face so that she could smile, after a fashion, when he arrived with Millie to pick her up, she had been panicking when she realised that he was the only person she could phone to collect Millie from nursery. The knowledge that she didn't have any friends she could call on, only slight acquaintances, made her miserable sense of empty loneliness and isolation even worse. So, she locked it away in that box, the one she kept in her head and heart, the one that was clearly marked "Don't go there" where she put all her bad memories and the things she couldn't cope with, Sohail's death and until very recently, Smurf's, were two of them. People kept saying "Never mind, you can try again" even Charles said it, but she knew that was because he was at a loss to know what the right thing to say to her was, she wouldn't open up and talk to him, or anyone really, she was afraid that if she did she would start crying and wouldn't be able to stop. She knew people meant well, but it felt the same as when she had been pregnant with Chloe and everyone kept talking breezily about her having an abortion, how it wasn't a big deal, as though the baby didn't matter.

She knew that she hadn't been very fair to Charles, it had been his baby too, but she couldn't cope with any pain that he might have, she couldn't cope with her own, so she'd shut herself behind a wall and they'd never really talked about it. Eventually the pain and sense of emptiness eased although she had to make a conscious effort not to think about it sometimes, and life went back to normal. They didn't talk about babies any more. They started to make love again, not to have sex with a purpose, or that horrible period which had followed when Molly had felt that she was locked in a hard shell which nobody understood and where he couldn't reach her, and where she wasn't sure she wanted him to. That passed in time, but she was absolutely determined not to have any more children so all her efforts were concentrated on making friends and getting a job.

Her qualifications as an EMT needed a refresher, they only ever lasted a year and hers had well lapsed, so she would need to book herself on the one day course and hope it wasn't too expensive and then start phoning round to find out where there were vacancies. Suddenly everything in her world was turning the right way up again. The house was sorted, well almost, and she loved it, couldn't wait to move in, Chloe was sorted, her love life with Charles was sorted, she was doing something about a job, and she had made a couple of tentative friends, albeit other mums she had met at the school gate, but she had been out for coffee a couple of times and they had shared a bottle of wine one evening, so Molly knew, for the first time since they had shifted here, that she was beginning to feel happy.

**Author's notes: Thank you for all your lovely reviews and for the welcome back messages, no-one could be happier than I am to be back in my parallel universe, I don't think I'm cut out to run a B&amp;B. **

**Sorry if this chapter is a bit angsty, but these things do happen and it goes some way to explaining why Molly has found it so hard to settle. **

"


	3. Chapter 3

**June **

**Molly**

"Post on the kitchen table Molls"

"Thanks, Sammy. What you doing? I hope you're packing mate"

"In a minute"

Sam was off to Dubai at the end of the week and Molly knew that he hadn't yet packed a clean pair of pants let alone enough clothes for two weeks with his ultra picky mother. She knew that she would have to go and check through his bags before he left, he might be at least a head taller than her and think he's an adult, but his mother would still blame her if he went off without stuff he was going to need. His mother still thought of him as a little kid and treated him like one, didn't see him as grown-up at all.

Sam and Molly adored one another, had a really strong bond, one which had been strengthened a few weeks before when Sam and his mate had thought it would be good to sample his mate's dad's booze supply. Charles was away on exercise and Molly was alone with the kids when she got the phone call and had had to explain that she couldn't leave the kids to come and collect him. They were really nice people and had bought a sick and sorry Sam home to her, and she promised him that she wouldn't tell his dad as long as he promised not to do it again. She'd made him ring the lad's parents the next morning to apologise, then grounded him for the following weekend, something else she didn't tell Charles. She actually felt a bit bad about not telling him any of it, but she had promised Sam and Molly didn't break promises, she also felt a bit bad because his behaviour was nothing compared to what she'd got up to at his age.

She went through to get her post to read in the car when she collected the kids, fingers crossed that there would be something from the South Coast Emergency Cover people, they had said a week and it was almost that now. She had done her refresher course and got her qualifications up to date and had been all ready to go, starting to look for vacancies without thinking for a minute how terribly difficult it was going to be to find something she could even apply for. The trouble was she couldn't do daytimes, which ruled out first aid training courses which were her favourite things, only evenings when Charles would be home to watch the kids. In Yorkshire she'd had a network of mates and the wives and girlfriends of 2 section, those with kids would watch hers and do the school run for her as long as she did the same for them, and she had always had her fall back of Ellen who had helped her in the house. She hadn't really made any close mates yet and Charles said that she was more likely to be helping in someone else's house than the other way round. Molly was sick of the joke now and was very tempted to get a job helping one of his junior officers' wives to teach him a bloody lesson and if he said it once more, she was going to threaten him with it, just to wipe the smirk off his face. The interview with South Coast had seemed to go well, although Molly knew she didn't always make the best first impression, she just hoped that if they'd had any doubts they'd have asked Yorkshire for references.

Millie was strapped in with no more than the usual battle and she made sure the puppy was shut in the house, she was scared shitless of running him over, then looked to see what post she had. There was a long fat official looking letter from South Coast which filled her with happy anticipation, knowing that 'no thanks piss off letters' are usually small and thin, and an airmail envelope, a proper one, not one of the flimsy little things. She knew instantly who it was from, even though he hadn't put his name or a return address on the back, and a huge grin spread over her face as she put it in her pocket to read later when she was on her own, one of her most favourite people in the world, Quaseem.

**Charles**

Life has got a whole lot better since we moved into The Barn. I knew Molly was very miserable in that rented house and with what happened with the baby, although she didn't say much and she kept trying to put a brave face on things. I felt as if I was letting her down, it wasn't what I promised when we got together, I meant what I said when I told her that I only want her to be happy, and thank God that seems to be happening again now. It is a lovely house to live in, and it already feels like home and I know I keep teasing her about how much it cost, but using some of the trust fund money made it okay. I was always very reluctant to touch that fund, it's been sitting there since I was 21, courtesy of my mum's parents, but I think it was a great use of the money. I hope Rebecca never finds out, I know it's none of her business, but she'll go ballistic, saying that she's annoyed on Sam's behalf but actually she'll be totally pissed because I wouldn't touch it when we were married and there was lots she wanted to do that we couldn't afford.

We went to the Dogs Trust at Shoreham to find this dog for the kids, mainly for Chloe, really, and Molly told me to keep the kids looking at puppies because they would fall in love with them and we could steer them away from tiny, yappy little things that have their hair between their eyes tied up with ribbons. The one that Chloe fell most in love with is a brown and white patchwork mutt with mismatched ears, huge feet, chocolate brown eyes and the habit of putting his head on one side with the soppiest expression on his face. Chloe kept insisting, saying he looked sad and lonely and wanted to come home with her. He hasn't got a pedigree bone in his body, so much for my Labrador, but we are all a little bit in love with him or a lot in love with him actually. If big feet you fall over are any indication of his eventual size, as people say they are, I think he is going to be huge, Molly just reckons he's bloody clumsy.

The kids have called him Patch, very original, and Molly was overruled on her choice. She wanted to call him Bossman, said he reminded her of me, because of his eyes and the expression on his face when he's in trouble. I said I was okay with that as long as it wasn't because I get so excited when anyone comes in that I pee on the hall floor like he does. Cheeky mare said that as well, but she didn't like to say so. It was just as well it was late and that the kids were asleep as I slung her over my shoulder in a fireman's lift and took her up to bed while she shrieked with giggles. Sam was still up but he was on Facebook or Twitter or something so he was on another planet and wouldn't have noticed if the house had fallen down.

**Molly**

The first night we had Patch at home was enough to put anyone off, the poor little bleeder obviously missed his mum and his brothers and sister, cos he cried every time he was left on his own. We put a hot water bottle and soft toys and a clock in his bed, all the things they told us, but he still didn't shut up crying and Chloe kept coming downstairs and begging us to let her have him in her room. In the end I told her he'd have to go back if she didn't pack it in, which wasn't true or very nice but I was pissed off by then. Then it all went lovely and quiet and I put me head round the door to see if he was okay and a Lt. Colonel hard-nosed, big, tough, I don't get emotionally involved, soldier was sitting on the kitchen floor next to him patting his back to stop him being lonely. I do love him, Lt Colonel hard-nose I mean, well both of them actually.

Patch seems to have settled in now and spends most of his time following me around, which is why I worry when I'm getting in the car, well he follows me until Chloe gets in, and he spends the rest of the time trying to get on the sofas, which Charles insists he's not allowed to do, but then lets him do it anyway. Millie was a bit rough with him at first, so we had to watch her, it probably would have been better if we'd waited until she was older but it's a bit late now.

The letter from South Coast was the good news I sort of expected, they are offering me loads of evening work, a lot of it around Bournemouth which is not exactly local but not too bad. As it's the holiday season I expect a lot of it will be my least favourite thing, lots of drunks and druggies, but that's okay, it's what I do, it's part of the job.

I saved the letter from Quaseem to read till after I had finished all the supper and bedtime chores, like a treat that you sort of put off cos you are looking forward to it so much.

_Dearest Molly,_

_How lovely to get your e-mail after all this time and how I agree with you that time does indeed fly by. I don't think our e-mails are secure, so I have asked a friend who is leaving my country to post this for me._

_Bashira and I really enjoyed seeing the photographs of your beautiful children and your lovely new home, it certainly looks very different from Kabul, but why no photographs of you, Molly? Or the Captain, or should I say Lt. Colonel? Next time could you please get some taken of you both with your children, and e-mail them or send them, Bashira and I would love to be able to picture you all together. _

_She has finished school now and she did well in her final examinations, but her ambition of going on to University has to remain just that, an ambition, for the time being. If anything, things are even more difficult now for young women to progress in my country, especially those that, like Bashira, have had some western influences and a proper education. We are applying for passports to enable her, and perhaps me, to leave Afghanistan and to pursue an education elsewhere. It is impossible to get a student visa without a valid passport although she can go to Pakistan but she doesn't want to go there, her brother is there, together with other of her relatives, and she is understandably scared._

_We still live in the same apartment in Kabul and I still teach at the University, not many changes, and I often look back to that short spell when I got to know you so well, especially as Bashira is now the age that you were then. We often talk about you, what a very special person you are, and how we all loved you, yes, even me, and how the poor Captain had to struggle so hard to keep you safe._

_I hope Bashira will be the same sort of person you are Molly, brave and kind and generous to those around her, and we want you to know that we will always remember what you did for her and we hope that one day she will be able to hand the same gift to someone else._

_Don't forget to send some photographs that include the two of you and please don't leave it as long before we hear from you again. In the meantime, please give my very best wishes to Lt. Colonel James, Charles, and tell him, from me, that he is a very lucky man._

_Quaseem_

**Charles**

Molly had just read her letter from Quaseem and was in floods of tears as she handed it to me to read. She is convinced that it's a cry for our help. I would love to be able to tell her not to get involved but I know I would be wasting my breath, and I don't know what we can do, if anything at all. If it was just a matter of helping Bashira to get a student visa, I expect there are things we could do, guaranteeing her or sponsoring her or something, but passports are a different matter. They are an internal Afghani affair and I don't know anyone who could potentially influence any of that. I will ask the powers-that-be if there is any way we can help, bearing in mind what Quaseem did for us during the conflict, but I can't see any other way to help and I think Molly is going to be very disappointed in me.

Quaseem is right about one thing, I am a very lucky man.

**Author's notes: Thanks for your kind comments, I love these two as well, they actually feel completely real to me, it's that parallel universe thing again. **

**There might be a couple of day's gap before I can upload Chap.4; I have some hostessing duties over the next few days, but hopefully by Sunday.**

**Hope you enjoy this, reviews would be lovely.**


	4. Chapter 4

**July **

**Charles**

It was my birthday last week, my bloody fortieth, I can't believe I'm forty or that Molly is thirty one for fuck's sake. I've known her for eleven years and she doesn't look a day older than when I first met her on the tarmac at Brize. She looked not much older than Chloe that day, like a very pretty little kid dressed up as action man, so tiny among all those hulking squaddies and I threatened to lob her out of the plane, I've got no idea now why I did that. Then after everything that went on in Afghan, how much I fell for her and getting myself shot and everything that happened after that, that awful day when I lost her, when I sat in that restaurant in Bath and waited for hours and how bloody miserable I was, to the day when I first saw her again at Brize. I remember how I kept lying to myself in Turkey, telling myself that I didn't care about her any more, that I didn't even like her, that she meant nothing to me now, that I was over her, and how quickly that all changed the first time I was alone with her.

I used to wonder sometimes what would have happened if she hadn't got pregnant that night. I would like to think that we would have got together anyway, I remember being sure from the moment I touched her that I still loved her, that nothing had changed, but I was probably too stubborn, or too stupid, to do anything about it if circumstances hadn't forced me. I know Moll says I spoil Chloe but I adore her, she's the reason that I got a second chance and everything good in my life came from that. Marcus is me all over again as a very small kid, shy and quiet and wanting to stay out of the limelight, but he's got Molly as a mum so I think he'll probably come out of his shell a lot younger than I did, well definitely before he's twenty nine anyway. And Millie? Well Millie's just Millie, one of the best things that ever happened to me, just thinking about her brings a huge smile to my face; I can't imagine what she'll be like when she's Sam's age. On top of that, thanks to Molly, I've got Sam living with me; something I never thought would happen in a million years. When Quaseem said that I was a lucky man, he'd got no idea just how lucky I am.

This barbecue tonight couldn't happen on my birthday because Sam wouldn't be back in time from Rebecca in Dubai and we couldn't have the birthday party without him, it wouldn't have felt right. I thought it was probably a coincidence that Rebecca had booked this trip so that it clashed with my birthday but Molly reckons Rebecca was deliberately setting out to hurt either me, for daring to be happy without her, or Sam for choosing to live with us rather than staying in that boarding school she was so keen on and he hated so much. I think Molly might be slightly biased about Rebecca's motives, after all she's re-married and no longer wants any relationship with me, but Molly says that I don't understand women, that Rebecca is just a spiteful cow and she could be right.

I wish I could have made some sort of progress with helping Quaseem and Bashira to get passports but it is even more complicated than I first thought. It looks as though Quaseem will get his passport which is an internal matter for the Afghan authorities and he may still be eligible for the special 5 year visa for front line interpreters, although that's not certain because of the time lapse, but as he never officially adopted Bashira, probably a non-starter anyway, he can't bring her with him even if he is allowed to come here and stay, and she hasn't been issued with a passport anyway. I don't know anyone with any sort of influence but I would love to be able to say to Molly that I've sorted it for her to see the look on her face, but I can't. I have told the MOD about how Quaseem wants to leave Kabul and they know all about his role as an interpreter back then, but I am afraid that he probably had a once and only shot at coming here when we reached draw down, I don't know for sure, but I would be very surprised if he's still eligible. I just hope that Molly doesn't get some crackpot idea in her head that she wants to go out there and see them.

**Molly**

This is turning into a bleeding nightmare of where we are going to put people to sleep tonight. Inviting everyone in the family, not to mention friends, to a booze up, or barbecue as we're calling it, when you live out in the sticks, and there are no tubes or buses isn't the most sensible way to go, especially as the birthday boy keeps saying he doesn't want a party anyway and he can't see anything to celebrate about being 40, miserable sod. I kept telling him that we needed him to "borrow" a couple of tents from work, but he wouldn't hear of it. We made it a barbecue because I don't do 'cooking', I'm bleeding good at heating up in the microwave, but that's it, so Brains and Fingers are going to poison us all with undercooked sausages, burgers and chicken bits; either that or a load of stuff that's so cremated you can't tell what it is, I can't wait to see them. We've bought in all the rest, salads and French bread and stuff and loads of booze of course, and Penny has bought a birthday cake, what she's going to make of 2 section I have no idea, but it should be good for a laugh.

I have told the kids that Patch is going to be in his cage thing in the back of Charlie's car, well away from all the people and the noise and they're to leave him alone on pain of all sorts. The poor little bleeder will be really scared by all the fuss and stuff, so it's best if he's where it's quiet. I'll check on him now and then, make sure he's okay. I'm actually pretty bloody tired before we even start, but I'm sure it will be fine once everyone gets here, I can't wait to see Mum and Nan and the kids, Oh and Dad as well I suppose.

**Charles**

That was some party, everyone seems to have had a bloody good time, I can't remember much after about midnight, but I could have done without Millie using our bed as a trampoline this morning. The house looks like one of those migrant camps in Calais that we see on the television news, there are wrecked looking people asleep everywhere and some that look very heavy eyed as they try to control a bunch of kids who are running wild with a very excited puppy in amongst them. I was given permission to get pissed last night even though I was the host, my wife said it was to make up for me being 40 and I remember someone yelling at us to 'for God's sake get a room' as I said I would make her pay for that remark and set out to do just that. She said that she would stay sober to keep an eye on everything, but I'm not sure that she did, she seems to be in a worse state than I am this morning and that's saying something.

My parents went home last night, my dad stayed sober so that he could drive, but my mum was faintly tipsy and really quite funny, I've never seen her like that before. She spent ages with Dangles and I think he made it his mission to get her to 'chill' which he seemed to have achieved, I'm not sure my dad was terribly impressed. Dangles was the self-appointed DJ or Master of Music as he likes to be known these days, and was really quite impressive. When he wasn't getting my mum pissed, he had quite a line in patter and was very good at getting people to dance, which wasn't the easiest thing to do on a lawn that was getting damper all the time, or I didn't think so anyway. Dancing with my wife, or rather standing on the spot and swaying in time with the music, which was as Strictly as we got, was a highlight of my evening, she looked bloody amazing and was actually wearing a dress for a change, a very, very short silver sparkly sort of dress which really suited her, mind you, when you're as pretty as she is, most things do. She had more than six inches chopped off her hair the other day so it's sort of on her shoulders. I wasn't sure to start with, I've always loved her long hair, but I can see that it really suits her a bit shorter, just makes her look so young.

Nan is being a complete star and is making breakfast for those who can face it, she has already fed the kids and the dog and I asked her again if she'd like to move in with us, and told her that she really doesn't have to be twenty years younger, she'll do just as she is. She said she's sorry but I've missed the boat, that I'm getting too old at forty and that I'm losing my looks, so thanks, but no thanks. God, I can see Molls being just like her when we're old and grey, at least I hope she is, but I don't think I'll tell Molly that, not this morning anyway.

Brains had us all in stitches telling the story of the riot training they have just been on, with riot shields and rocks and petrol bombs and everything. Great how the army gets around to training people how to cope with things that happened more than ten years ago. Apparently those riot shields weigh about 8 kilos, which doesn't sound much until you have to hold it out in front of you for hours on end while people hurl rocks at you. Their section CO was Gavin 'Pea Brain' Pearson, who couldn't make a decision to save his bloody life and they were being pelted with real petrol bombs from about three feet away while he dicked about trying to work out what was the best course of action. Brains said he stood it for a bit then yelled "Forward or back Guv? I don't give a fuck which, but could you make up your mind, it's getting bleeding hot here"

I looked at Molly when the gales of laughter rang out, including from my mum, and I saw the look of naked longing on her face and I realised again just how much she misses the fun and camaraderie of being part of all that, then I caught her eye and smiled at her, she grinned and blew me a kiss, so I winked and blew her a kiss back, incredibly relieved that it was just a passing moment. I know she gets a bit bored and lonely sometimes, misses being in the army and I am always a little bit scared of losing her at those moments.

The teenagers were remarkably good, they stayed sober and on the low alcohol or no alcohol beer which was a surprise as I hadn't got around to marking Sam's card. Maybe he is more mature than I thought, but then Molly said that she had done it and whatever she'd said it had certainly worked, better than I would have imagined possible.

All-in-all and using Molly's patented party assessment, no-one got sick, no-one cried, no-one got in a fight and no-one got hurt, so it was a great success.

**Molly and Charles**

He took a mug of tea and one of coffee and two of Nan's bacon sandwiches back to their bedroom, which was now a Millie free zone as she had joined the others under Nan's watchful eye. Molly was determinedly under the duvet and groaning.

"Good morning beautiful, there's some tea there and Nan's made you a bacon sandwich. Oh, and you'll be pleased to hear that she's gone off me, I'm too old now I'm 40 apparently"

"Nah, she's lying to you, she'll never go off you, she loves you almost as much as I do" she gestured at the sandwich "But I'm not sure about that, I think Brains has poisoned me"

"Are you sure? If he has, it's just you, no-one else seems to be ill, could it be alcohol poisoning by any chance?" He was laughing unsympathetically.

"Could be, I suppose, I'm sorry, I meant to stay sober, really I did" She groaned "Never, ever again, I feel horrible. Did you enjoy your party?"

"I enjoyed the private party with my wife"

"So I should bloody well think" She laughed "I quite enjoyed it as well"

"Only quite?" he lifted his eyebrows

"Stop fishing for compliments"

She had come into their bathroom totally naked as he was brushing his teeth and she'd carefully closed the door, because Milly was sleeping on a camp bed in the corner of their room, and then proceeded to seduce him. It really was like turning the clock back to a posh hotel in London and he'd loved it. They'd gone on to a repeat performance when they'd got into bed, with a hell of a lot of giggling and 'shushing' then trying to keep silent to avoid waking Milly. She had whispered "Don't stop, don't you dare stop" as she sometimes did when she was about to reach a climax and had then had to put her hand over his mouth to muffle his cries as he followed suit. They had laid still, almost holding their breath when Millie had muttered and turned over, eventually falling asleep with her still sprawled on top of him. It had been a very happy end to the party.

"Where are the kids, are they okay?"

"They're fine, they're with Nan. Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"I'd love to, but I'd better not, my whole bleeding family are still here somewhere aren't they?"

She forced herself off the bed, trying to ignore the horrible churning in her stomach and the crashing headache and Charles laughed at her as she made the resolution she always made at moments like this, that she would never, ever touch a single drop of alcohol again as long as she lived.

"You know, I always forget that the kids ain't kids any more, well apart from Martin, I mean they're older than I was when I went to Afghan. It makes me feel so old"

"You feel old? How do you think I feel?"

"Charlie" She paused "I've been thinking…"

"God, that sounds dangerous…..…" She stuck her tongue out at him as he smiled at her and carried on "And the answer is not in a million years"

"You don't know what the question is yet"

"Yes I do, and no, you can't, it's not that easy. Why don't you wait out until we know what's happening about their passports first" he paused, then pleaded "Please"

**Author's notes: Thank you all for your lovely reviews, I am glad that I'm not the only one on my planet. Hope you enjoy this, please let me know.**

**A message for my personal troll: I don't hold a gun to your head and force you to read anything I write, so I don't understand why you obviously read it just so that you can be spiteful. I suggest that you write something yourself and put your name to it so that you can show us all how an expert does it ! In the meantime, don't bother to send any more, I am again deleting! **


	5. Chapter 5

**August**

**Charles**

I don't know whether it's my milestone birthday or my increasing disenchantment with the army establishment, but I have been doing a lot of serious thinking recently about where our futures lie. I am pretty sure that I will get promotion to full Colonel sometime in the next year, that is unless I blot my copy book big time, but it's a question of whether I want that and whether it's the best way forward for our family. If I stay in, they'll probably want to shift us again and that is something I'm not prepared to even think about, no bloody desk job is going to be worth the upset that would cause Molly. I know she's tough but losing this house, not to mention the disruption to the kids, would deal her a hammer blow and I'm not going to do that.

I met up with some old friends last week and I got chatting to one of them about how he's feeling now he's got out and it really made me think. Even allowing for pride making him describe it as the right decision, he's pretty happy, reckons it's not that difficult to move away, that there are a number of roads you can take to find a new career, a new purpose if you like. He found that employers were looking for the type of skills you get as an officer in the army, leadership and management stuff, or being a Rupert and a bossy bastard as Molls would put it. If I'm going to start something new, I have to do it soon while I'm still young enough for potential employers to believe I can adapt. I don't think I'd want to go to any ex-servicemen type of organisation, not even a charity, if I'm out I want to be out, but I think I would love to get involved in some NGO helping to make a difference to someone, or lots of 'someones'.

Part of the problem has been my utter frustration at the way the establishment has approached the problem of Quaseem. I know it was some years ago, and that they're trying to air brush it away now, but that guy put his head above the parapet and his body in the firing line for us every day for years. He was as much in danger as any of us, more in fact, because he was seen as a traitor by his own people and he also happens to be a bloody good bloke. When we reached draw down he didn't take up the offer of a safe passage here, but went back to Kabul to try and re-build something in Afghan and then took on the responsibility of looking out for an 11 year old orphan, Christ knows what happened to her mother, whose father tried to turn her into a suicide bomber and then a Taliban target, until he was taken out because he was top of the Yanks' Most Wanted List. None of that counts now, apparently, all anyone keeps saying is that he doesn't fit the criteria of being in the right age range and too much time has elapsed since the end of the conflict. I understand all about the need to follow rules and regulations, and I've followed them most of my adult life, with one or two notable exceptions, but this is bloody ridiculous we're playing with their lives here. For fucks sake we owe this guy, and young Bashira as well, otherwise what the hell were we doing there?

**Molly**

The job has been going well, but I could have done without the sodding heatwave we've had almost since Charlie's party. Day after day has been baking, lovely in one way, the kids and Patch have spent all day every day, since they broke up from school anyway, playing in the garden and bobbing in and out of the huge paddling pool Charlie bought. It reminded me a bit of the pool Penny sent him when we was in the FOB, although that one was a hell of a lot smaller, and how Nude-Nut and Baz inflated it and filled it up and how I lusted after the Boss, as I called him then, when he was sitting in it without his shirt on. We have all lost contact with Baz, I know he left the army and I weren't surprised. These days everyone talks about equality and non-prejudice and that, but he was given a very hard time once he left 2 section and went off to be nearer his mum and it were so unfair, cos he's a really top bloke. I hope that he's happy with whatever he's doing now and that things have worked out for him. He ain't on Facebook so I don't know how to get hold of him, I wish I could. Nude-Nut is out as well, but he's joined the Met and lives in Walthamstow. He's married now with two kids, little boys and I bet he makes a cracking dad, cos he's always been lovely with kids. I talk to him and his wife Celie by e-mail regularly; it was just a shame they couldn't make our barbecue but he was on a late shift.

Spending all day in a bikini top and shorts and then having to put on my full uniform at tea time to drive over 30 miles to Bournemouth while it's still bleeding hot ain't the best. Millie has remembered how much she likes being naked outside and every day is a battle to put sun bloc and a hat on her, only for her to throw it in the pool. Why the hell she can't just do as she's told sometimes, I don't know. I was watching her yesterday afternoon, almost standing to attention in front of her dad, not a stitch on, hands behind her back, tummy stuck out with her little bunches sticking out at the side of her head, absolutely defiant as he ticked her off, not a bit sorry. Chasing her around all afternoon means I'm already a bit knackered when I get to drive for over an hour to spend all evening dealing with people who are on holiday so they've spent a small fortune on tickets for some gig, and then they spend all their evening trying to ruin it for themselves and everyone else, dickheads. It's usually really late when we finish and then I have more than an hour's drive home through the New Forest and I'm mostly completely knackered by then. Charlie keeps telling me to be careful and not to stop for anyone or anything, so I have to keep reminding him that I'm a trained killer as much as he is.

I wanted to go back to work so much, and they are a good bunch that I work with, although I don't really see them out of work, but I don't always want to do it, sometimes I just want to stay sitting in the garden with Charles and Patch and a glass of wine. I wouldn't admit that to anyone, especially not Charlie, who'd say 'don't do it, then' and then I'd feel bad that I wasn't pulling my weight.

Had an e-mail from Quaseem this morning to say that Bashira has heard that she will need to get the written permission of her father or another male relative or her husband to be allowed to have an e-passport, which is what they get these days. Bit bleeding difficult as her dad is dead, her brother's a nut job and is in Pakistan and she ain't got an husband, so she's stuffed unless we can help her find some way round it. Charles says that the UK don't have an embassy as such in Kabul, or not one that can help with passports and visas and stuff, but the septic tanks do and he is looking to get someone to get in touch with American intelligence to see whether they can be any help. They're just as much responsible for what happened to Bashira's dad as I am, Charlie says they are more responsible, but I know he's just trying to make me feel better.

I was sorting through the photos from Charlie's party to find some to e-mail out to them; it was really hard to choose we seem to have taken thousands, most of them crap cos I seem to cut people's heads off, don't know how I do that, they always look fine on the little screen. I have managed to find some good ones of the lads from 2 section together, or what's left of them and one of them together with me and Charlie. I think Quaseem will like them; he will most likely remember the lads, well as they were, not as they are now. I'm gonna send him one of me sitting on Charles' lap, even though me dress had worked its way up a bit and was a bit short to start with, so I was showing a lot of more leg than I thought at the time, but we was laughing together at something and it's a nice picture. There is a nice one of Charles with the kids, he's crouched down and Chloe is on one knee grinning with her teeth all gappy and her long ringlets and Millie on the other. She's sucking her thumb with her bunches sticking out like shaving brushes, and she's only wearing her knickers; we had an hard enough job getting her to keep them on. Marky is sitting on the floor between his dad's legs and has his head down, but he's looking up under his eyebrows with an almost smile on his face. He hates having his picture taken. Someone took some of Charlie and me snogging, it must have been when he said he would make me pay for what I said, but I'm definitely not sending any of them, I didn't realise at the time that he had his hands on my bum.

As we was looking through photos, Chloe suddenly asked why her dad wasn't in any of the ones taken outside Buckingham Palace when I got me medal. For a moment neither of us knew what to say, then Charlie said about the scars on his tummy and his leg and how he had been stuck at home in Bath with Gran and Granpop, but I knew from the look on his face how bad he'd felt that day even though we've never talked about it, well not about that day anyway. I still feel a bit bad about what I did sometimes.

It had been a particularly busy shift and Molly was exhausted but on the same sort of high she had once experienced when going back to the FOB from Bastion after rescuing Smurf from his stupid adventure in a minefield, just longing to high five someone. The thunder storm had broken just as she set out for home and the rain was torrential, so she'd rung him to tell him she was on her way because she was already late and so she was now obeying his Lt. Colonel, or bossy bastard, lecture about staying safe by driving really slowly and carefully. She knew it was because he loved her and because he worried about her, he thought she took risks, but sometimes she got pissed at him because he seemed to forget that she was an adult woman capable of looking after herself and making sensible decisions, not one of the children or even one of his squaddies. She had calmed down a bit but was still on a high when she finally got home.

"One of them techie wankers, you know, the ones what do the sound, gave himself a bleeding electric shock tonight, big blue flash blew him of his feet and everything, careless sod, so I went charging down to sort him out, you know get his heart beating again, when I thought how bloody quiet it'd gone, it was sort of silent and I starting crapping myself cos there was about a million people watching me"

"What happened to him?"

"Oh he was okay, got his heart going and that and he was carted off in an ambulance, but then all these press blokes started taking pictures of me and asking me stuff, so I reckon I'm gonna be in the papers in a day or two" she giggled "Probably the Bournemouth Evening Echo or that free one you get at the supermarket"

**Charles**

Molls is still on an incredible high hours after the event, it must be an amazing feeling to save someone's life like that. I know I had my moments when I was a soldier on active service, but nothing like that, the excitement sort of shines out of her. She is so hyper that she hasn't noticed yet that I'm waiting to tell her something, something I've been waiting all evening for because I can't wait to see her face.

**Author's notes: Thanks for all your lovely comments, I really appreciate them, they make it worthwhile. I have started working on a new story and will be concentrating on that when it is ready to go, but there is still one more chapter of this one and I will probably re-visit my favourite family at a later date to see what they are up to.**

**This is a message for my troll: Thank you for your latest charming communication. I have the feeling that you are either very young, have only just graduated from doing your homework with crayons, or just very stupid, or both. I think the Klip Doctor was right about you having been the victim of bullying as you seem to believe that trying to bully someone else evens the score in some way, or, as you put it, you enjoy touching touching nerves. However, if, as you say you do, you sing with happiness when you think you've hurt someone, you seriously need therapy.**


	6. Chapter 6

"What? WHAT? come on, tell me"

"Next Tuesday" he smirked.

"Yeah, it's our anniversary, and?" She was beginning to sound annoyed "Come on Charlie, stop messing and tell me"

"We are expecting a couple of house guests that's all, they'll be at Heathrow late morning"

"Who? WHO? It's Bashira and Quaseem, isn't it? ISN'T IT? Stop messing and tell me"

He nodded a huge grin on his face.

"How d'you know, how come, who said?" Her face had broken into an identical wide grin to the one he was giving her "What about their visas and that?"

"I know because Quaseem rang me earlier and I don't know how they've swung it, don't know about their visas or anything, but it's definitely happening, so come and give me a hug" Molly flung her arms round him as he added " I just hope it's nothing illegal"

"I don't care if it is"

"No, you wouldn't"

**September**

Molly spent the intervening days in a flurry of sorting and went shopping looking for bits and pieces to make Bashira feel really welcome, buying expensive bath products and a new white frilly duvet cover because she had decided that she should have the best guest bedroom with its own bathroom and then bribed Sam to vacate his large room for Quaseem and to share with Marcus until it was time to go back to school. Sam was saving up for driving lessons even though he was nowhere near old enough to drive, but Charles had said he had to pay half of the cost himself and he had a very, very long way to go, so was grateful for any extra cash that came his way. She knew she was going over the top but she was desperate for Bashira to like it and for everything to be perfect.

**Molly**

I thought Sam had done quite well in his GCSEs, especially considering all the messing about, but he has to do some re-sits to get the grades he needs for the 6th form. Charles has given him the "be the best you can, don't let yourself down" lecture on his exam results, and then Sam said "It didn't do Molls any harm, did it?" I was mortified and went on at him that if I'd had the chances he'd had I could have been anything I wanted, like a doctor or something and that he was lucky. He said that if I'd been a doctor, I wouldn't of met his dad, cheeky little bugger has an answer for everything. The best thing was that Rebecca was absolutely furious at both of them for letting her down, and full of "I told you so" for Charles for changing his school and angry with Sam for not being brilliant enough on the day. Charles was forced to tell her that doing the best you can is what counts, not giving your mother bragging rights, so I'm happy to say that she isn't speaking to any of us at all now.

There was quite a big article in the local paper all about me saving that bloke's life, with lots of photos and someone had done their homework cos it went on about me being an army hero with a medal and that, and it said about my husband still being a serving soldier, an officer, but they got his age wrong, said he was 45 which pissed him off, and how I'd got kids. I don't remember saying any of that, only that I used to be an army medic but Charles says they would of asked army records about me and there would have been stuff in the archives somewhere from when I got me medal. South Coast are really chuffed with me, I had phone calls and a letter saying how proud they were and how it was great publicity for the company, it's gonna be hard to tell them that things are gonna change. Charlie says he's really proud of me too, but he's biased.

**Charles**

I'm probably going to be far too early at the airport, but I'm not sure what time the flight gets in exactly, I meant to look it up on the lap-top and also check for any delays or anything, I can't think why I didn't get around to it now, except that things were a bit manic this morning. Molly was very stressed out, said she felt sick with nerves, it's a shame that the kids haven't gone back to school, and it would have made it a bit easier for her. I should have used my brain and worn fatigues, it would have made it easier for them to see me, so I hope I can recognise Quaseem, the last time I saw him, he was standing by that bloody truck on that bridge in Afghan talking to the driver when all hell broke loose. I remember seeing him move towards Molly at the back of the truck when Badrai opened fire and got me. Thinking about it made me sweat a bit last night and then I had a nightmare, and I haven't had one of those for years. Molly shook me awake and then cuddled me back to sleep but I hope I'm not going to keep on having them while they're here. I don't expect it to be easy to recognise Bashira, she was just a little kid the last time I saw her, a little girl, not much older than Chloe, standing in a market square, wearing a bomb vest and standing next to the girl I loved, the girl I still love, who was doing her best to get herself blown to smithereens. Another thing that makes me sweat when I think about it.

Heathrow was packed out with crowds of people milling about everywhere, wearing just about every combination of ethnic dress you could think of, I don't know whether they will be dressed as they would in Afghan or in western dress, I mean, will Bashira be wearing a burka? I don't know and I still don't know what time the flight's due, I hope that it hasn't landed already, if it has I could be fucked. I need to find the information desk and check what time the possible flights from Afghanistan are due in, even whether I'm in the right terminal or not.

In fact I'm in the right place but far too early for either of the flights, there are two, one due at 11.15 and the other not till 5.45 this evening, so I'm banking that they're on the 11.15 one, I know Quaseem said morning; I bloody hope so or I'm going to be here all day.

I knew Quaseem immediately, of course I did, as he did me, although he's had the benefit of seeing photos, but he doesn't seem to have changed at all, doesn't even look much older. I felt quite emotional when I saw him, there was lots of back slapping and hand shaking and smiling, I think his memory of the last time he saw me was almost as traumatic as mine of him, although not as painful or bloody, obviously. Bashira obviously didn't recognise me, apart from an image in photos and looked very shy, standing behind him and keeping her eyes on the floor while I was greeting Quaseem until he pulled her forward. She wasn't wearing a burka, or any face covering at all, but one of those hijab things over her head and a long robe, I think they call it an abaya, but I could be wrong. I was glad she wasn't wearing the whole covered from head to toe outfit, not because I have any problem with it, but because it would look very strange to the kids, I'm sure they've never come across it before.

We spent the drive home covering the years in between , although the curiosity I have about their current visa and passport circumstances was met by a warning shake of Quaseem's head and a flickering of his eyes towards Bashira in the back seat, so whatever has gone on it would appear to be a secret from her. I will ask him again later, I can't actually believe that he would do anything illegal, but I really need to know what I'm part of here.

**Molly**

It's turned into a really warm day, not as hot as the heat wave we had a week or so ago, but hot enough for the kids to play in the paddling pool and to run around outside in their swimming costumes, or in Millie's case, nothing at all. Charlie says she is going to be a naturist, but I reckon an exhibitionist or a glamour model is nearer. They all ran up to me when Charlie's car drove in, they know that I've been like a bleeding cat on an 'ot tin roof all morning. And then there they were.

Quaseem hugged me and then bent down to say hello to the kids, they went all shy when he put his hand out to shake their hands and called them by their names. Chloe and Marcus said hello, but Millie went and wrapped herself round Charlie's leg, which she still does when she's not sure about something or someone. That left me with Bashira. She's all grown up and very pretty, miles taller than me, but I would have known her anywhere, could have picked her out in any crowd of Muslim girls, no matter how many there were.

I could see how shy she was feeling and suddenly I was completely lost for words, there was so much I wanted to say and I couldn't think of anything to say, then the tears started to pour out me eyes and I had to hug her.

"Bashira"

"Molly" she whispered me name as she hugged me back, and then started to cry as well and then we both tried to smile.

"Look at us, bleeding waterworks" I turned to smile at the kids who were standing there with their dad looking really worried and then Bashira went and bent down to say hello to them with a huge smile on her face and then Patch came charging up and she looked a bit nervous, then patted him as well. She looked around at the house and garden and looked a bit doubtful and I know it all looks very different to what she's used to, cos it looks nothing like Kabul, not better or nothing, just different.

We went in and I made a cuppa, they didn't want food, Quaseem said that the airline had been feeding them all night, then I took Bashira to her room while Charles took Quaseem cos I knew he wanted to question him about how come, but I don't give a monkeys how come. She stood in the middle of the room and just looked around her without saying a word until I got a bit fragged as to whether she liked it or not and I suddenly realised how difficult all this was going to be for her. Maybe not difficult, I don't know, but it's going to be very bleeding different from what she's used to. Then she went into her little shower room and started sniffing the gels and stuff I'd bought for her and her little face was a mass of smiles as she started to say "Thank you, thank you Molly" and I kept saying "You're welcome" and it didn't matter how complicated this was going to be, I was happy.

We spent the afternoon talking and laughing and then looking at the lap top to see what courses she might want to take and where; apparently she still has to apply for a student visa cos she's here on a visitor's one, I have no clue what it's all about, and I don't care, but I'm sure that Charlie will get to the bottom of it and then he'll tell me. I want her to stay here, course I do, but I might gonna have to leave it up to her to decide. It was a bit awkward when Chloe came and asked me why Shira, as they are calling her, was wearing so many clothes and wasn't she too hot, so I fudged it a bit and said that Afghan was an 'ot place and anyway all the girls dressed like that there. Chloe said, "Well you didn't when you were there mummy" and I smiled and tried to change the subject, I didn't want to explain cos I didn't want to remind Bashira of what happened the last time she saw me in army fatigues, what her dad had done to her, the bomb and that.

**Charles**

We went to bed early, after I cooked the dinner. I'm better at it than Molly, although I'm not sure whether she keeps it that way because she hates doing it and then sat round the table chatting until Bashira started to hide her yawns. I was very proud of Sam, he behaved like a mature adult, joining in adult conversations and asking sensible questions. We were all actually worn out, it has been a long day, and they had the added exhaustion from the travelling on top.

Molly told me that she hadn't known what to say to Bashira when she first arrived, so I said that I couldn't believe it, Molly Dawes being lost for words. She stuck her tongue out at me and went into our bathroom to brush her teeth and I sat on the edge of the bed and explained what Quaseem had told me.

They had got a phone call one morning saying that Bashira had to make an appointment to attend the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; apparently you can't just show up. When they got in front of the official, Quaseem hadn't a clue who he was, he showed them a completed application, signed by the brother and bearing his verified photograph and giving his permission for her to have a passport and they had called her in simply to do the official photographs. Apparently it's very corrupt and there's a huge black market in Afghani passports so Quaseem kept waiting for the official to make a demand for money, but none came. Both Quaseem and I know that it's completely impossible that her brother would have willingly signed that, he is rabid Taliban and is in hiding in Pakistan somewhere, so we suspect, no, we know for sure, that the hand of the Americans is in there somewhere but no-one's going to ask. They have six month visitor's visas and Bashira will need to apply for a student visa and Quaseem will see if he can get exceptional leave to remain. It's all a bit up in the air at the moment.

**Molly and Charles**

Molly went through and stood in between his legs.

"Happy? He tucked the hair back behind her ears.

"Course I am"

"Happy anniversary"

"Oh yeah, happy anniversary to you too. Charlie, there's something….."

"What?" He undid the belt of her cotton robe and concentrated on kissing down her neck towards her breasts.

"I think, no, I know for sure, that I'm pregnant"

He stopped what he was doing and stared at her, "You can't be, we've been completely careful"

"Not careful enough, well not after your birthday party we wasn't"

"Molly that was almost, what? Six weeks ago, why haven't you said anything before?"

She shrugged, she had known, or suspected for weeks, the absence of her period, the strange metallic taste in her mouth, her sore tits and an over-whelming exhaustion were all horribly familiar but she had been refusing to face them, refusing to admit them even to herself, but try as she might, she couldn't ignore feeling sick every morning. She wanted to kick things and scream that it wasn't fair, just like one of the kids, but it wouldn't make any difference, it was happening again whether she liked it or not, and it was the last thing she'd wanted especially now.

"Sorry"

"I did think about it at the time, thought that it might have been a sort of accidental on purpose, but then you didn't say anything so I thought…." He shrugged.

"I was pissed at your party" she declared defensively, then thought for a moment "Alright maybe not that pissed and I just felt, I dunno ….. It seemed like a good idea at the time, when I'd had a fair bit to drink, but it don't now" she pulled a face.

"It's a tad late to change your mind now" he smiled at her "And they said that there's no reason why it should happen again, that we should try again and that everything would probably be okay"

"Probably aint good enough"

"I know, I'm a bit scared too"

"We haven't got any stuff, I got rid of all it when we moved here, gave it to the charity shop, junked it…."

"We'll buy everything new then, it'll be just like the first time"

"I am not going shopping with your bleeding mother"

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten that" He laughed "I'm not looking forward to telling Sam"

"He's going to think it's totally gross" Molly giggled in spite of her reluctance to see anything good or amusing about the situation "He'll think it's disgusting that his dad still has sex even though he's so old"

"I don't care, I might be old, but I'm still a fully functioning soldier" He put his hand flat on her slightly thickened waistline and laughed.

"I can't believe I didn't notice" His hands started to wander again and he started to kiss down her body and then fastened his lips around one swollen nipple.

"Oi, what the hell are you doing?" She pushed him away "My tits are killing me"

"Celebrating"

**Author's notes: Thank you so much for your feedback, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. It's my last visit to their home for a while, although there are a number of changes in their pipeline, how Bashira fits into life in the UK and what Quaseem will do, what Charles is going to do in the future, Molly's job, and, of course, their new baby, so I'll probably be back. Let me know what you think.**


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